


To a Merry Christmas

by Person



Category: Disney Princesses
Genre: Christmas, Drunken sex, F/F, Yuletide, challenge:NYR 2007
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-01
Updated: 2007-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-27 00:07:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/289393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Person/pseuds/Person
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle had never felt quite comfortable in the company of some of the other princesses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To a Merry Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kalloway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalloway/gifts).



Belle had never felt quite comfortable in the company of some of the other princesses. The regal ones. The delicate, feminine, ones who were the picture of a storybook princess. The ones who reminded her of the type of girl she'd never been able to be.

At first she'd thought it was a matter of heritage, that as a commoner who'd only married into royalty she could never feel quite at home with women who'd been groomed since birth to wear a crown. Then she'd learned the story of Cinderella's past, realized that she'd always gotten along perfectly well with Ariel and Jasmine, and accepted that it was just a matter of personality that had nothing to do with their rank at birth.

But she invited them to her parties anyway. She would smile at them as warmly as she would at Pocahontas or Megara, speak with them as if they'd been friends for all their lives. If she snuck off early with Mulan to beg swordplay lessons from her or with Jasmine for a wild flight on the magic carpet she always used to get to the parties, well, she at least waited until it wasn't so early as to be rude. Belle knew too well what it was like to be an outcast, even if she'd never had to face the same amount of mockery as her papa had, to make anyone else feel like one.

It was probably a little against the spirit of the holidays to make Christmas Eve a night of practise dueling, but that day Mulan had come as Ping and the sight of her friend in armor always made Belle yearn to become as strong as she was. So strong that if another person like Gaston ever arrived at the castle gates she actually be able to help defend it.

Snow White, on the other hand, had blanched the way she always did (quite a feat for a girl so pale that she would vanish save for her hair and lips if she were ever to walk naked into the snow outside), scandalized no matter how often Mulan explained that at times when there was increased bandit activity in the mountains she needed to cross to reach the castle it was safest to travel as a man, no matter how unladylike it might be. One more difference Belle counted between them.

When she finally came in that night, leaving Mulan to sleep in the stables with Khan ("I just don't feel comfortable sleeping in a palace," she always said when Belle offered her a room, and even the chill of winter wouldn't change that) her hands were blistered and her arms were bruised. She knew that when her prince saw her he would begin to rage, the beastly temper he'd never fully managed to lose flaring at the thought of anyone harming her, but that wasn't something she'd have to deal with until the next morning. Until then she would enjoy the ache in her bones and the feeling that she was like one of the girls in some of the books she read, the ones who secretly slipped away to become warriors. It didn't matter that the only weapon she ever used was a wooden stick or that her battleground was her own courtyard.

She wasn't ready to go to bed yet, even after so much activity, so she made her way to her favorite haunt, the castle library. When she reached it, she was surprised to see light glowing out through the crack under the doorway. "Oh, Lumière, you could have burnt the house down around us," she muttered under her breath, assuming that the lights came from the candles on the Christmas tree that the man was supposed to have put out. It would be just like him to get distracted by Babette and forget his duty. But when she opened the door the first thing she saw was that the tree that dominated the room was dark. Instead the light came from a fire burning low in the fireplace that Princess Aurora was sitting before.

"Oh! I didn't expect anyone else to be in here this late," Belle said as Aurora looked up at her. "I thought everyone would be asleep by now."

Aurora smiled faintly, but her eyes were shuttered in a way Belle didn't understand. "I'm not fond of sleep," she said softly, and even the strange sadness in her voice couldn't keep it from sounding like music.

Belle had never wanted to speak with _this_ princess alone, had always thought that if they did the conversation would be mostly awkward silences as they tried to find something they had in common, but here and now she couldn't bring herself to leave the other girl sitting alone in the near darkness, looking completely out of place with all of the Christmas finery that surrounded her. "I didn't know that you liked to read," she said as she took the seat across from Aurora.

"Oh yes," Aurora said, visibly relaxing when Belle didn't continue questioning her sleeping habits. "The women who raised me, they were _such_ darlings, but they really didn't have much for a child to do. Reading was the best way to pass the time."

"You should have said something. I would have been glad to let you borrow books while you're here; you didn't need to sneak in in the middle of the night."

"I know that, dear. I already told you why I'm here now." Aurora smoothed her skirt with her hand, avoiding Belle's eyes. "Would you like a glass of eggnog? I asked the servants to bring me some before I came here."

"That would be nice, thank you." Belle felt like a guest in her own home as she watched Aurora pour a drink from the pitcher at her side, looking every inch the perfect hostess. "Would you like to make a toast?" she asked as she accepted the drink.

Aurora glanced around at the garlands and ornaments surrounding them, then raised her glass. "To a merry Christmas," she said.

It was a toast Belle could appreciate. "To a merry Christmas." Belle's eyes widened as the eggnog hit her tongue, the flavor of brandy drowning out almost everything else. "Aurora!" she exclaimed, shocked that the princess was drinking something so strong.

Aurora glanced up at Belle through her eyelashes. "Belle, we are friends, aren't we?"

"Of... of course," Belle replied, thrown off guard and not entirely sure if that was the word that _she_ would use. "But that's not--"

"Then _please_ ," Aurora said, cutting her off with more firmness in her voice than Belle could ever recall hearing, "call me Briar Rose. Even my godmothers and my dear Philip call me Aurora now, and you can't know what it'd like to have everyone call you by a name that doesn't feel like your own."

Belle blinked at her, surprised by the request. She'd never even known that Aurora had another name, although she supposed it wasn't the sort of thing that would come up often if it wasn't mentioned in the first introduction. "All right... Rose," she said, then brought her train of thought back to the question she'd been trying to ask. "You weren't planning on drinking this _all_ on your own, were you?"

"Oh, no!" Briar Rose laughed as she realized what had shocked Belle. "I'm sorry, dear. I wasn't expecting it to be so strong either; I think it must have come from the servants' Christmas party."

"Well, good!" Belle said, taking another small sip now that she knew what she was getting into. "I can just imagine what your family would say if we sent you home with a hangover so bad that you couldn't stand, and I imagine that's what would happen if you tried to finish this off yourself!"

"You don't need to worry any, I have more sense than that." Then, to Belle's surprise, Briar Rose smiled at her mischievously over the rim of her glass. "But it's nice to do something the court wouldn't approve of sometimes, isn't it?" she asked before taking another deep swallow.

"Why Briar Rose! I never would have guessed that _you_ had a naughty streak!"

"I wouldn't have either, before I began to live at the castle," Rose admitted. "I still don't, generally. But it _does_ get tiring, constantly trying to be the perfect princess they all want me to be. You must know what I mean."

Belle honestly had never felt any pressure to be anything other than who she was in all the time since she'd come to the castle, even during the time when every thing she did seemed to lead to The Beast raging at her. Before then, however, in the town... yes, she did know what it was like to have people trying to make her fit in. "I know what you mean," she said, "but I've never cared much about what other people wanted me to act like. You should ignore people trying to make you act in a way you don't want to, Rose."

The expression of blank shock Briar Rose made at the thought of doing that reminded Belle again that this was not a princess she'd ever been very close to. "Oh, no! I couldn't bear to disappoint them all, and I _am_ happy with the way things are, truly. It's just... I miss my woods." She took another long drink of her eggnog, needing the extra courage to get past admitting that her life was anything but perfect, Belle supposed. When she lowered the glass against she fixed her eyes on her hands and softly said, "I'm always so glad when you invite me here, because it's the only place I'm able to go that reminds me of my old home. If it wasn't for how cold it is out, I'd be walking the forest right now instead of being in here."

Belle was beginning to get the feeling that she'd need to get used to being shocked if this conversation went on much longer. "What about the wolves?" she asked.

Briar Rose's smile was almost cocky and her eyes were confident when she looked up at Belle again. Belle couldn't help but think that seeming so self-assured, even if it only lasted for the moment, made the princess more beautiful than ever. "They would never be able to catch me," she said, and her voice sounded so certain that Belle found herself believing her. "You can't live in the woods as long as I did if you don't know how to keep yourself out of the fangs of wild beasts, my dear."

* * *

It was, Belle would later think, the brandy that made her accompany Briar Rose to her quarters. It was surprising how many glasses you could go through when you were deep in conversation. A gulp here to wet your throat when it was getting sore from speaking, a swallow there to fill a lull in the conversation while you tried to think of a new topic, and the next thing you knew the entire pitcher was empty and that seemed as good a sign as any to turn in for the night.

Except that Rose had still seemed unwilling to go to her bed, dragging her feet at banking the fire and putting the book she'd been reading before Belle joined her away until Belle, mostly just searching for a way to get on with leaving quickly so she could lay down and have the room stop swaying around her, offered to walk her to the rooms she'd been given. It had only been meant as a friendly gesture, she would tell herself. Nothing more.

She had certainly not expected that as she bid the girl a good night Briar Rose would hook her fingers into the sash tied at Belle's waist and hold her there. It would have been easy to break away from her, but instead Belle waited to see what she was going to do.

Briar Rose herself hadn't seemed sure of what her plan was, staring at her hands for several long moments as if she didn't know how they'd gotten there. Then she slowly began pulling Belle forward, her grip still so light that if Belle just chose to stand still her hands would slip right out of the sash. If she did that, Belle was certain that Briar Rose would say good-night as if nothing happened and they would both do their best to forget about it by the next morning.

Instead, she stepped forward through the door frame.

Rose finally looked up and met her eyes. "Please," she said softly. "Usually Philip is there to drive sleep away, but without him... _Please_."

Belle was surprised to find herself shaking, and firmly gave her body the mental command to stop it that instant. "Aurora, what is it you _want?_ " she asked.

"It's not Princess Aurora asking this," she said, and Belle was so close now that she could feel her breath against her face, "it is Briar Rose. And all that she wants is to know that she'll be able to wake in the morning, and have the happy Christmas we toasted to. But there's only one way to be sure of that, dearest." Slowly, giving Belle plenty of time to flee if she so chose, Briar Rose leaned forward until there was the softest brush of lips against lips, hardly even enough to be called a kiss. Then her hesitance seemed to fall away when she wasn't pushed back, and when she kissed her again there was no way, even in her drunken state, that Belle could pretend it was meant to be chaste.

Belle would tell herself later that it was just curiosity that made her undress Rose, that she slowly undid the long row of buttons down the back of her dress because she wanted to see if the rest of her body could possibly be as beautiful as her face. Alice had whispered to her once, giggling giddily at having a chance to gossip with an adult, that she'd heard from Jasmine who'd heard it from Cinderella that the Princess Aurora had had magic cast on her by fairies when she was a baby to make her more perfectly beautiful than any human could ever naturally be. As Belle bared her to the skin, finding not a single blemish or imperfection, she found herself believing the story.

From there all excuses gave out. There was no amount of alcohol that would make her kiss her way down another woman's neck if there wasn't a part of her that wanted it. Curiosity alone wouldn't be enough to make her take a breast in her hand, to make her heart beat faster when brushing her thumb against a nipple made Briar Rose breathe in harshly and arch her back into her touch.

But, she had to admit as one of Rose's perfect hands slid down her stomach towards the cusp of her legs, it _was_ a very merry way to ring in Christmas morning.

  



End file.
